Don't Dull The Sparkle In Your Eyes
by takealookinsideabook
Summary: Since he was eight, Frank has been blind. His mother did everything for him, but now she has found a job that she desperately wants. She hires a helper, called Gerard.


Since Frank was eight, all he could ever see was black. Complete nothingness, even when he rubbed his eyes with the hopes to see a blur of colour. Left, right, whatever way he looked at something, to him it was just the extension of nothing he lived with. He wasn't born blind. He can vaguely remember the colour of his mother's eyes, the flicker of a candle's flame inside a pumpkin on his birthday. His eyes hadn't been damaged in an acid leak, or some crazy accident. His sight had simply gotten worse until he saw nothing at all.

He was seventeen now. He lived at home with his mother, who cooked, cleaned and did everything for her son. Sometimes he hated it, feeling like he couldn't do anything for himself, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He often imagined what the world looked like, remembering his younger life and dreaming about the adventures his mother would tell him.

But he hadn't let his lack of sight destroy his life. He still had a group - well, two - of friends. Ray and Mikey were two of the most important people in his life. They weren't blind like Frank, although Mikey did wear a pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses that sat on the edge of his nose. Frank had met them at school a few months before he'd been moved to homeschooling and they'd been extremely supportive.

Frank spent a considerable amount of time with Mikey, mostly at his own home, or, on the rare occasions that his mother let him go out with friends, at Mikey's. He didn't know what his house actually looked like, but he'd been told by Mikey himself that it was creepy, but it was mostly his mother's influence.

Frank had recently grown... suspicious. His mother had been acting weird, almost like she was trying to hint at something when she spoke to her son. When Frank asked her about the house - they were planning on moving somewhere smaller, as his mother couldn't handle the mortgage now her husband had left - she simply just said, "We'll talk about it later, honey," Frank knew there was an underlying dismissal when he heard it.

When he went to bed that night, he wondered what his mother wanted to tell him. Or what she didn't want to tell him. The latter worried him as they shared everything, they were much more like close friends than mother and son. What ever it was that his mother was keeping from Frank, it worried him.

Frank managed to get himself ready the next morning. Admittedly, he'd almost fallen on his face pulling his jeans on but he eventually got them on without any serious injuries.

He knows it must be about nine, which means his mother will be up soon. He feels his way to the kitchen table and waits. He could really use a coffee, but he doesn't even think of considering trying to make one.

He hates a large part of himself. He hates that he can't do anything for himself, and how it meant that his mother had no life either. He hates that he can't see the man that he's grown into. He can't see how his mother looks at him, if she's sad or proud.

He's deathly quiet when his mother enters the kitchen, immediately turning the coffee maker on. She glances behind her at her son, holding in the sigh at the blank look in his eyes. His body was slumped, lacking any kind of motivation or even just energy. She frowns to herself, but doesn't question him. It only made him get stressed out and eventually upset.

She sets his coffee in front of him and gently guides his hand to the mug. He squeezes her fingers before picking the mug up and sipping. "Thanks, Mom," He murmurs.

Linda sits across from him, taking a deep breath. "I have some news, Frankie,"

Frank looks to the sound of her voice.

"I found a job." _Oh_. Frank's face contorts into one of confusion, then slight terror.

"What about me? I- I can't look after myself, Mom!" Linda closes her eyes. She knew he'd react badly. "You can't just leave me." Frank chokes, taking a few stuttered gasps of breath.

"Frankie," Linda coos, moving her chair around the table so that it was next to her son's. "I'm not leaving you on your own, honey, I promise. I... I got you a helper,"

"A helper?" Frank asks softly, sniffling. His mother wraps her arms around him.

"A young man was advertising in the paper, and I just thought maybe you could use the socialisation. I spoke to him on the phone and he seems lovely."

"What if he's not?"

"Then I'll stay at home with you,"

Frank nods, "Okay,".

"When I told him about you he seemed excited to meet you." Linda says with a smile, and Frank smiles back at the sound of it in her voice. "I think you have similar interests,"

"I love you, Mom," Frank says suddenly. He really does. She's done so much for him, been the best mother she possibly could be. Frank wants her to have friends and enjoy her life. He doesn't want to be the reason stopping her.

"I love you too, baby," Linda kisses his forehead. "Gerard will be here in a few hours to meet you,"

"Gerard," Frank says, testing the name. "Sounds handsome." His mother's laughter echoes as she climbs the stairs.


End file.
